


Supermarket Flowers

by thewaterfalcon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 13:52:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11037504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewaterfalcon/pseuds/thewaterfalcon
Summary: Prompt:~Hermione/Charlie~broken shopping bag~Diagon Alley**This is the only piece in the Divide challenge that has been beta'd, because I needed this to be as close to perfect as it could possibly be, and I cannot thank RooOJoy enough, from the bottom of my heart, for doing it for me. She knows what this piece of writing means to me. I love you.**





	Supermarket Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:**
> 
> ~Hermione/Charlie  
> ~broken shopping bag  
> ~Diagon Alley
> 
>  
> 
> **This is the only piece in the Divide challenge that has been beta'd, because I needed this to be as close to perfect as it could possibly be, and I cannot thank RooOJoy enough, from the bottom of my heart, for doing it for me. She knows what this piece of writing means to me. I love you.**

 

_ _

 

__

* * *

 

_ So I'll sing Hallelujah _

_ You were an angel in the shape of my mum _

_ When I fell down you'd be there holding me up _

_ Spread your wings as you go _

_ And when God takes you back we'll say Hallelujah _

_ You're home _

* * *

 

 

“Hermione! Hey, Hermione!”   
  
Hermione didn’t notice the bag break, but she supposed it must have - considering Charlie Weasley, of all people - was crying her name whilst jogging towards her, his arms full of everything, she quickly realised, the bag had contained. 

 

As he reached her she attempted to thank him, as was, of course, the right thing to do, but the ability to form words, in any way, had abandoned her. All that erupted from her mouth were sobs. 

 

“Hey, hey, hey,” she heard Charlie’s familiar voice say. The logical side of her brain was unable to switch off, and she realised that he must have repaired her broken bag and replaced the items; it was the only reasonable explanation for the fact his hands were now holding each of her upper arms. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” 

 

She tried to answer him,  _ tried  _ to tell him that it was okay and she was  _ just fine _ , that he needn’t bother, but she found herself nodding. Hermione allowed one strong arm to gently take the carrier bag from her, and the other arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, steering the witch down a crowded Diagon Alley.

 

“N-n-not the Burrow,” she choked.

 

He looked down and shot her a brief smile as the hand resting against her shoulder gave it the smallest of squeezes. “Of course not.”

 

He didn’t lead them through the Leaky Cauldron, which Hermione was instantly grateful for. Instead, he ducked them into a small alleyway beside the pub that Hermione had never even noticed.

 

“This way will be a tad quieter,” Charlie said, giving her shoulder another quick squeeze. “I’m parked just a few streets away.”

 

“You drive?”

 

“I do! So does Bill; flying is no good around Muggles, and I’ll set fire to myself before I set foot on that bizarre bloody bus again. There’s not much need for it when I’m in Romania, but it helps when I’m home. Dad loves it, too.”

 

“I’ll bet,” Hermione replied, fondly remembering a myriad of occasions in which Arthur Weasley had quizzed her mercilessly about Muggle customs and traditions. Her breathing was still slightly hitched, but she had regained some composure; that was something, at least.  

 

Charlie’s car, just as he had stated, was located a few streets away. Hermione found herself letting out a shaky sigh of relief as she sat herself in the passenger seat. Her lips twisted into a small, watery smile as Charlie gently placed her bag onto her lap before he jumped into the driver’s seat and began to drive off.

 

They drove for awhile, general chit chat breaking up the periods of peaceful silence, for how long Hermione did not know. She had no idea where they were heading, either, but somehow that didn’t feel important. She did eventually decipher that they were headed in a Southwesterly direction. 

 

Their destination - as it turned out - involved the coast, some cliffs, and a deserted beach. 

 

Hermione glanced around her surroundings that were undeniably beautiful and marvelled, despite everything, at how there were luscious green fields only fifty or so feet behind them, yet a sandy beach and a perfectly blue, rolling sea in front. 

 

“This is…” her words faded.

 

“We came here as kids once,” Charlie began, “always liked it here, and you looked as though you needed to get away from London for the afternoon.”

 

Hermione nodded, feeling tears pool themselves once more in her eyes. “You were correct.”

 

They began to walk towards the beach, the wind whipping at Hermione’s hair as the stark and brisk breeze nipped at her face. She didn’t mind the cold, in fact, she was grateful to feel anything that wasn’t hurt and pain; although the two were definitely still very present. 

 

Charlie nodded in response. He didn’t press her for reasons or answers’ he was just simply, there, walking beside her.

 

“I had just come from the hospital when…” Hermione trailed off.

 

She felt a hand once more grip her shoulder. “Mungos?”

 

“Oh, no. A Muggle hospital.” She took a large, shaken breath and said a silent thanks that his hand was still on her shoulder. “My mum got a call this morning. My gran hasn’t been very well, although they had thought she might have recovered, she ended up catching pneumonia - a Muggle illness that can badly affect people with low immune systems. My gran had been deteriorating a lot recently and earlier,” Hermione stopped and let out a gasp that seemed to shake her whole body. Charlie’s grip tightened as she took a breath and forced out, “They said...that there wasn’t anything more they could do. She wasn’t awake, and they turned off the machine that was helping her to breath.” 

 

They had reached the edge of the sand looking out at the wide sea, and Hermione hugged both of her arms over her chest as Charlie’s hand held still against her shoulder. She watched the way the sea ebbed up to her shoes before disappearing back again. “She died this morning.”

 

* * *

 

 

_ “Hermione, darling, the...the hospital have just called, they want us to go in.” _

 

_ Hermione opened her eyes, blinking into the darkness and trying to make sense of her mother’s hushed voice. The clock on her childhood bedroom table read close to two am. Suddenly, wide awake, Hermione replied a small “Okay” and began to get dressed. Hospitals didn’t call family members at two am for no reason.  _

 

_ The drive to the hospital took less time than she’d have liked, and the walk to the - now achingly familiar ward - took much less.  _

 

_ “Mrs Granger,” the nurse spoke to her mother. Hermione didn’t hear it all, but she knew the gist. She knew her gran had fallen asleep for the last time, and that, once the machine that kept her breathing was turned off, the person who - when Hermione fell down, was always there - would be granted her wings. _

 

* * *

 

“I know you’ll hear it a thousand times, but I’m sorry,” Charlie offered. 

 

Hermione blinked through her tears. “Thank you, Charlie.” She hoped he knew that his condolences weren’t the only reason for her gratitude.

 

Hermione wasn’t sure why she asked, but she spoke the words quietly, “Do you believe in God?” 

 

Charlie met her eyes with a calm, sideways glance. “Did your gran?”

 

Her answer came in the middle of a sob. “Yes.”

 

“Then that’s all that matters.”

 

* * *

 

 

_ Hermione did what she did best, even after the hardest goodbye was thrust upon her, in front of her very eyes, she busied herself.  _

 

_ She gently took the supermarket flowers - daffodils, always daffodils - down from the windowsill, and threw what looked like day old tea from a cup into a nearby sink. Carefully, she picked up the photo album her cousin had made and looked briefly once again, through memories of her gran’s life.  _

 

_ Hermione’s mother looked over her daughter’s shoulder. “These are the memories of a life that’s been loved, that’s what she would have said, my Darling.” _

 

_ After a small time, Hermione began to take down the numerous cards and stuffed animals. An old ginger beer - her gran’s favourite - was poured down the sink. Not feeling it was enough, she found the spare nightgowns, folding each one neatly and placing it into the case. The chairs she stacked, the pillows she fluffed and the other, unoccupied bed, she remade.  _

 

_ She held her mother through the loss of her own mother.  _

 

* * *

 

 

“Tell me about her?”

 

Hermione was struck by the question. “What?” 

 

“Your gran, tell me about her, if you’d like to, of course.”

 

“I’d love to,” Hermione replied, wiping away the solitary tear that was tracking its way down her cheek. 

 

And so she did. 

 

She told Charlie all about her grandmother, who often had very little filter with her words, whose green eyes protected her family with a fierceness that Hermione could only wish she had one tenth of, and who found happiness in ducks, the colour yellow and having a fruit scone with her coffee. She told him about the woman who collected rare tea sets and who always had a pet cat, the one who’d taken her swimming as a girl, and was the first person she rode a bus with. She talked of the terracotta living room and the best soup she’s ever eaten and of an intense love of travelling. She spoke of family, and home and love. 

 

“She was really loved, and she got to see the person I have become,” she finished in a whisper.

 

“I’d be willing to bet a lot of gold that you made her the proudest grandmother on Earth.”

 

They sat in the sand until it was cold and dark. They simply sat until they didn’t, and until Hermione knew she needed to go back to her mother.

 

Charlie nodded. “Okay, we can head back.”

 

“I’m very grateful...for this.” 

 

He answered her first with a smile. “There’s nothing to be grateful for.”

 

Hermione wiped a tear from the side of her face as they began to walk back towards Charlie’s car. “I don’t know if I believe in God, Charlie, but today I’m choosing to because I just know that when God took her back...he said ‘Hallelujah’.”

 


End file.
